Calculated Innocence
by Zerabell Blackborn
Summary: The players are being set and the dice thrown, life is nothing but an afternoon game with tea and Kaoru is growing tired of it.
1. Prolouge: dreams of reality

**_Author's Note:_** Greetings to one and all. Due to a moment of insanity I deleted my previous story _Shadowed Innocence_; the rewritten chapters nothing like they had once been. I thought it only fare to start over from scratch… That and it's much easer for me to keep track of. If you were one of my dear readers from before, I hope you find this newer, shiner rendition to your liking. Also, I send out a thank you to my beta _Vaguely Aloof_.

**_Warning:_** As I have done some planning and plot building for this story I realized several things. The more important of all is my decision to make this story is a PU. Yes, a PU not an AU; parallel universes always had a greater appeal on my end of things. _Parallel_ because nowhere during the series can I find a reference to the past I've created for dear Kaoru. If your blinking at the screen with an empty look, please let me know as I'm more than happy to clear up any confusion. At any time. Eah... that is, if I can.

**_Disclaimer:_** I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, Hitokiri Kenshin, or any Kenshin in between.

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**Calculated Innocence**

_Prologue: __Dreams of Reality_

Sneaking from her room, Kaoru quietly maneuvered the darkened hallway with practiced ease. Bare feet drifted across the wood, her movements second nature after countless nights of habit, until she stood before his door.

Even as she berated her secret fears, pale hands slid the shoji aside revealing an opening just large enough to spy a small part of the sleeping inhabitant. As always her breathing stilled, the anxiety and urgency which spurred her on night after night mutated into perverse fear as she waited. Flashes from dark and morbid dreams were brought to mind; cold expressionless eyes peering out from beneath matted hair the same rich color as the blood coating her floor, discolored flesh stretched taunt across a pain filled face, blood soaked sheets twisted and encasing the mutilated body of her dead friend. It was vivid, so terribly vivid she felt sick once more.

She tried to tell her hands to open the door, just a few more inches, the waiting as nerve racking as the possibility of her dreams becoming reality. She should give him more credit, after all he was considered by many a mighty warrior, a skilled samurai from an era years into the past. A man whose name was legendary, whispered in the depths of night with violent hatred- with fear. He survived years without her, fighting his own past and demons. She knew this, yet the knowledge gave her no comfort.

Her dreams had grown in strength, the imagery slowly becoming a reality in and of itself. Beyond the sleeping world her worries and fears continued, like the dreams, growing in strength until her thoughts were consumed with the horror. Dreams were never meant to melt into reality. Could she stop it this time? She was older, wiser… perhaps this was a chance to shape the flow of destiny.

The seconds of eternity pressed down on her as she waited, waited for the bundle to give some movement, some telling sign that there was life under the cloth. She pulled back, a sigh of relief barely suppressed when she saw what she had been waiting for. But it was short lived, after all she had two to worry about. With as much grace her exhausted form could muster she closed the shoji, pleased with herself at the practically silent click of wood on wood. She moved onward, the safety of the second member of her makeshift family her concern now.

This time she opened the shoji wider, shoulder resting on the door's frame. Instead of waiting, she watched. Such a fine young man he was becoming, she thought with a bittersweet smile. She was sure his parents, where ever they maybe in death, were proud of him. She was. Her student, so peaceful and trusting in sleep, so unlike the unruly wakeful brat she knew him to be. It was times like these when she saw him at odds with his fiery persona that she was reminded of her brother. Yet even through the hazy fog of her own self doubt she recognized that he was becoming his own man; she couldn't be any happier for him.

If her dreams were in fact a warning of what was to come, there was only one possibility that came to mind. She couldn't quite grasp why they would wish to erase her existence now, not after all these years of letting her live peacefully in her banishment. She was no threat to them, not anymore. She had kept her word, her oath. She lived as Kamiya Kaoru, nothing more or less, denying almost all of what she had once been. If it was what she feared, she damned their existence, their interference. What could they possibly gain from letting her grow into an adult, to let her develop attachments to people and things, only to take it all away again? But if they were after her, why would her dreams revolve around the death of her loved ones? If they weren't after her, who could their target truly be? Was it all just an over reaction brought on from the coming anniversary of to much death and pain and madness? Had insanity slowly crept into her consciousness? Would her world forever be tainted?

Tired eyes lifted from the sleeping form to the small window across the room. Faint light from the moon created a glowing shadow that covered the forest outside. To her fracturing mind, it seemed alive.

She closed the door just as quietly as the last. Resigned, she padded softly down the hallway to her room. There was nothing she could do yet anyway, even if her fears were to come true. Nothing save waiting. Dropping with an unladylike grunt to her futon she prayed, like she did every night for the past week. _Let it just be a dream._


	2. Chapter One: worry and a wash bucket

**_My heartfelt thanks:_** to my beta _Vaguely Aloof_ for pointed out several mistakes, then correcting them :glomps: you're a gal's best friend- oh and to my readers and reviewers of course!

**_Disclaimer:_** I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, Hitokiri Kenshin, or any Kenshin in between.

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**Calculated Innocence**

_Chapter One: Worry and a Wash Bucket_

It had been a relatively quiet week at the Kamiya dojo, in fact it had been down right dull. From all appearances today would follow suit. It was a beautiful fall afternoon; sun shining, a cool breeze playfully rustling colored leaves, even the birds were chirping. Not that he was complaining. No, never that. Still, he just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Never before had the dojo been so… peaceful. The usual chaos that dictated the lives of those within the Kamiya grounds had been distinctly absent. At first he believed it to be a mere break from the normal; enemies of the past trying to extract their revenge on the man he once was. Slowly hope crept into his heart that maybe, just maybe, he was able to truly live the life of his choosing. It was such a simple dream, an innocent desire after all. To exist only as Himura Kenshin, to have his wants and fears and joys untainted by a bloody past…

There had been so much blood. Lifting one sud-covered hand from the wooden tub of cooling water and laundry, he held it before eyes locked in the past. Dark crimson liquid, warm, sticky… he could almost feel it dripping from his skin. Letting the hand fall once more into the water, he continued a task he could normally find some peace in. Would the blood never wash away? Clothing could be replaced, swords cleansed, but his hands… In his mind's eye he could see the stains, could almost see the blood on his hands taint all he touched.

Hadn't he done enough, paid enough, helped enough to be granted the redemption he sought? He had spent ten years on his own frantically trying to make up for his past, all the while knowing nothing he did would make a difference. There was a love/hate relationship existing within him. Remorseful of the lives he had taken, yet never once was the wish to change the past there. He believed in a cause, gave his sword and skills to a man he believed able to bring peace to the land. Meiji was an era of renewal, construction, rebuilding… it was an era of peace bought with the currency of death and blood was on his hands. _His_ hands because the strong protected the weak. Smiles, laughter, and innocence existed in this new era and he wouldn't have it any other way.

He had almost mindlessly traveled from place to place, helping those he could while quietly, selfishly, seeking forgiveness with each action. In the recesses of his mind he nurtured a small seed of hope, keeping it hidden under a mountain of guilt and self deprecation. It was something he could hold onto in the night, a small trembling light that the darkness fed on. There were moments he nurtured it, days he denied it, but most of the time he ran from it.

Ran in sheer terror of the possibility that somehow, somewhere he would manage to find a fragile piece of forgiveness… something so easily wrenched away leaving nothing but snow and blood. He truly doubted his ability to pull himself together a second time. So he ran, never staying in any one place longer than necessary- the fact that he was a hunted man served as a handy excuse almost no one questioned.

He supposed that it was only inevitable that he would find it.

Almost from the very beginning the blue eyed wild kenjutsu instructor had accepted him as Kenshin. He had thought her naïve, too young and innocent to know the horrors that roamed the land. She had said 'Kenshin is Kenshin' a simple, child like statement that he almost dismissed as soon as it was presented. In those first few weeks he turned those three words over, dissecting it- studying it, not sure if he wanted them to be truthful or not. _Kenshin is Kenshin_… He was who he was, because of who and what he once was, he could be no other. For days afterward he wondered if that conclusion was self-discovered or if the young woman had known this truth from the very beginning.

Soon he had realized that her kindness and hidden grace was matched with the ability to defuse and put at ease. He couldn't have asked for a better person as a companion, as a… friend. He had been lost, without a home or a sense of belonging, traveling from one place to another seeking what he knew he didn't deserve. But he had found it within the walls of a run down dojo, found it in the welcoming smile of Kaoru, the excited tone from Yahiko and the camaraderie from Sano. He found a place to call home, people to call family. He still wasn't sure he deserved it, but he knew without a doubt that he wanted to keep it. That was why when days filled with peace turned to weeks, those weeks nearing months, hope soared. Life was continuing on, without the seemingly constant threat of one enemy after another attacking with the single mindedness of revenge.

Maybe it was the peace, after so much chaos, that made his doubt grow with his hope. Perhaps that was why he had a feeling something was going to go wrong, because for once it was going _right_.

But… there were small things he noticed, a handful of almost unrelated discrepancies that did nothing to quell his rising doubt. All week she had been alternatively staring out into the woods and working herself into a frenzy inside the dojo.

At first he had thought little of the slightly heaver steps she took when arriving to dinner three nights ago. Had thought that the slow movements of forced grace she projected while seating herself nothing more than the results of an intense training session. When he questioned her, she would smile, declare to be in perfect health while lifting her cup for more tea. It did little to reassure him.

Focusing his gaze across the yard he watched as Kaoru continue to fight, lost in her own world confronted with a seemingly inexhaustible number of foes. Her movements seemed slower now than they had but a few moments earlier. He noted once more, how easily she seemed to tire recently. And there, he could see it on her face, the way she bit her bottom lip, the way her eyes narrowed. It was almost as if her true opponent was within.

Sighing he went back to the task at hand, attacking the dirty cloth the way he wished he could attack his doubt. Surely he was worrying for nothing, merely superimposing his own anxiety and unease to her. It seemed in the past two years living in the same house, a home really, he not only nurtured a hope that should be denied but an unhealthy ability to worry. Surly it was nothing more than a sudden desire to improve her skills in the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu.

Slowly he became aware of the wild, almost chaotic aura of a certain ex-gangster with declaration of 'aku' stitched to the back of his favorite coat.

Perhaps it was time to see what his friend thought.


	3. Chapter Two: murky reflections

_**Author's** **Note:**_ On Parallel Universes, or rather my take on them, just figure that what you know of the RK universe has happened that way for my story… Unless I write otherwise that is. For example: Kaoru attacked Kenshin on sight accusing him of being the Battousai, Yahiko along with Sano joined their group, Jin'e and Enishi attacked their way into the story, Aoshi, Megumi, and Misao showed up… Things like that still happened, Kaoru just has a past different to anything she did in the cannon, and it will change what's going to happen to her now. Call it out-of-character if you wish, the laziest explanation is normally the easiest to understand. I'll accept both criticism and flames for it if you wish. _Thanks to:_ my beta _Vaguely Aloof, _and all my reviewers . Now, onward to more important things… 

**_Disclaimer:_** I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, Hitokiri Kenshin, or any Kenshin in between.

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**Calculated Innocence**

_Chapter Two: murky reflections_

Water, it was such a simple thing. Able to calm and relax a person's body and mind. Captivating and hypnotic, never seeming to have worries or anxieties. It just flowed, moving about with ease from one place to another. Of course it wasn't so much flowing now as it was existing, moving only when she moved. Cause and effect; she shifted and the water was pulled with her, she would settle and the water soon followed. It was still able to relax her aching body and help quiet her mind. Absently she lifted her hand, watching the small drops of warm water fall from her fingers. Ripples traveled quickly over the small surface area of her bathtub, further distorting her submerged body.

There were so many choices she needed to make, too many different outcomes to predict. Everything was not as straight forward as it should be, as it could be, as it was with water. Water was patient, slowly wearing down the elements in its path. She wasn't patient like water, unable to slowly bend or break the obstacles before her. The dreams were a stream of caustic water, silently lurking, spreading anxieties and doubt where it did the most damage. Every night for the past two weeks she had been plagued with the same hellish scenes. She could almost feel death approach her little heaven, smell the tang of blood, hear cold steel parting air.

She couldn't _be_ water when she had to fight it. She was neither fire, earth, air, nor metal. And what exactly did that leave her? Nothing, she knew, nothing when she needed _something_. Sinking lower into her small wooden tub she contemplated once more her course of action; how could she wait and do nothing? It grated on her nerves and went against her instincts to act. She wanted to do something, anything to divert the danger presented to her family; scout the area, lay traps in the forest, create false leads in the surrounding cities. It mattered little if she was the main target or one she housed. This time, she knew the enemy and was able to see the outcome of the encounter.

The matter was turned over slowly, all day. She argued with herself, logic, and the past; concluded that while she was still sane, both the danger and her dreams were going to rudely barge into her life. There was something gnawing at her conscious, something with cold sharp teeth, that colored her thinking and chilled her body despite the warmth her bath provided. It was something deeper than fear but not so strong as terror.

What if, by trying to mold destiny to her will she only hurried the inevitable? Or, what if the dreams were to force her into action, a warning of what could happen if she did nothing? Could she stop it- _should_ she? Was she to be the cause of her friends' deaths this turn around as well?

Taking a deep breath she forced her eyes open and calmed her breathing. She had other things to consider as well, what would she tell them? They deserved to know, at least in part. There were some things she could never tell them, for she had given her word many years ago. While her name had changed the importance she placed upon promises remained the same. She could never tell them the entire truth, besides… even a basic unemotional generalization would achieve nothing but getting laughed out of her own dojo. As it was there were some days, those with the most sun, laughter, and freedoms when she doubted the worth of her _own_ memories. Besides, being born as part of a four hundred year old breeding program was _not_ something she could just blurt out casually over rice and tofu. Then there was the fact that her brothers and sisters were tightly controlled by a group of megalomaniacs responsible for every major change for centuries.

How was anyone to believe that such a thing existed, that a group of people gained so much power as to deceive an entire nation? There was no single name to give to them, no true proof of their existence despite the fact that they _made_ history. They plotted, manipulated, and calculated everything into their plans. They put as many emperors on the thrown as they removed, war was considered nothing more than a casual move towards their goal, slaughter and sacrifice the payment they all accepted.

Time was nothing, death meant less, and the world _would_ be theirs.

It sounded so fantastic, so surreal… and that was without looking to deeply at what they were doing. How could she even begin to tell her friends, people she considered family, that she was not only part of an experiment to produce perfect, loyal, and powerful warriors… but part of a _failed_ experiment as well? She did not know which she was more ashamed of; fulfilling the unimportant role of toy or being a _broken_ and discarded toy, useless with no merit.

Prophetic dreams where nothing in comparison to the other abilities her brothers and sisters had- especially when the dreams were uncontrollable, without focus. She saw nothing but quicksilver flashes, random scenes with no explanation. It did little good to know the outcome if the method to reach it was missing. Time and again she reacted to her dreams, acted in the vain hope to stop or change what she saw. Each time she thought she understood the true meaning behind it, was sure she had the correct knowledge to alter the future. Every time she had been wrong. That was why she was broken and useless.

Without being able to center or direct the visions… Well, she had been told that there was 'no current practical application' and handed a cup of poisoned tea.

All things considered, she really should have seen it coming. Then again, perhaps not.

She was sure living through that particular brand agony was nothing more than a cosmic joke. Surviving such a paralyzing and fatal mixture of ground plant and root could be nothing more than that. Just as the deal they struck upon her full recovery was nothing more than a whim. In their collective eyes she was nothing to them, with no true power or a possible threat so they let her live.

Which begged the question then, were they truly after her now? Were the deaths in her dreams even connected to her past? Could it be the hand of a yet unseen enemy? There were to many questions and not enough answers.

She was once more left with the only avenue available to her; to wait.


	4. Chapter Three: wayward

**_Author's Note:_** I've had a rather profound epiphany; midterms might be a pain in the arse but they do wonderful things for my creative procrastination gene. On another matter, one slightly less random, I send out a heartfelt thanks to my beta- you know just what to say to keep my ego inflated. Any and all mistakes found within are my own; if you find any let me know and I'll happily fix them. Now, enjoy!

**_Disclaimer:_** I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, Hitokiri Kenshin, or any Kenshin in between.

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**Calculated Innocence**

_Chapter Three: Wayward_

The walk into town was horribly silent, an almost visible tension arched between the two moving figures. The taller of the two, with hair darker and longer than any current fashion would inspire, looked blankly on ignoring the serenity and beauty of the day. Movements static, stiff, as if unable to completely disregard the emotional turmoil caused by duty and honor. Long tapered hands shoved into pockets, caressing the hidden bamboo case dipped in blood and ink.

In contrast the smaller of the two moved gracefully a step behind, eyes solemnly searching the surrounding forest. They were in direct contrast in appearances, light where the other was dark, short to the other's height, androgynous in form to his companions hard and sharpened features. He was the first to speak; "You are certain – is there another way to interpret the orders?"

"I have found no other."

"No loophole?"

"I have found none."

"Is there truly nothing we can do?"

Silence.

Quiet contemplation, she had once been told, feeds a vicious cycle that is insanity. It was a saying that held no meaning then, touching on subjects even her advanced maturity was unable to grasp. Now, as she trailed silently behind Kenshin, she understood it all to well. Her mind was trained not on the future and the problems that needed attention, but to her past and the many failures of her youth; a time she was only known as Nomiko.

For five years she had been raised with the other children, taught and played side by side. For five years she was nothing but a child, one of twenty who received specialized training. Honed to be a warrior for the coming years like all the others. She lived in the small community made of teachers and students, on a small island off the coast of Tejinho in the Sea of Japan. It was an island that had no name, for it existed on no map ever made by man.

There, children were separated into three groups each determined by ability and age, each taught specialized skills. For five years she lived on that island, learning how to weld a sword, bread and taught to be a warrior for the cause. The first time she dreamed in quicksilver flashes and bloodied grays she had been seven, unable to grasp the severity of the images.

Two weeks had past and it had nearly faded from memory, the day started out normal enough in the face of the five-day raging storm. Intense exercises to strengthen muscles and improve agility with Tuskamoto Yuji-sensei were conduced in the dojo. Her sensei had been wearing his customary morning glare as he threw out sharp commands and reprimands. Then her dream was reenacted in reality and the elders knew.

Daichi-sempai, with his cropped brown hair and mud colored eyes, stumbled into the dojo his face alight with morbid excitement and delight. Lost sailors, thrown off drastically off course, had landed on the southern beach. Seven confused and relieved men where at that very moment, given warm soup and sake while the elders were making the necessary arrangements.

Tomorrow all seven would be publicly executed on the very same stretch of beach they landed upon. It was nothing new, each and every individual was taught the consequences of such an act, it mattered not that the unsuspecting visitors held no actual knowledge of what the island was. They were "…a danger to Japan," the elders said at dawn to the crowd of students and teachers alike, "these deaths would serve the country and insure the safety of the emperor."

She cried that day, kneeling on the beach in the rain and chilling wind, an act that disappointed her elders and weakened the respect she had been gaining in her teachers' eyes. Yuji-sensei was especially hard on her the next day, teaching her without a direct confrontation she was a failure.

Her life drastically changed after that.

She was moved to a separate location, setting foot for the first time on the mainland, and presented before eight prominent members of their group. Wanting farther proof of her 'talents' they kept her a prisoner in the lavish home of Niibori Matsusuke, and left in the care of his cold wife Yuuka. It was the elder's hope that by positioning her just close and far enough away from the country's civil-war, any prophetic dream would be focused on information they could use.

She was immediately locked within an inner room of the large estate, out of the way and easily forgotten. Her only companions were four guards who knew almost nothing about children. Every morning Yuuka-san strode into the larger of three rooms that made up her new home, and demanded to know if she had a dream. Every morning for six months Yuuka-san left, leaving the youth she had been close to tears after the onslaught of words that only reiterated her worthlessness. After that she put all her attention and energy into practice. It had been the youngest looking of the four that made her realize that while she was unable to force her dreams into existence, she could continue her training and be of use as a warrior.

The days seemed to grow shorter every month, and soon a year had passed. The guards, behaving more like brothers, seemed to take great delight in correcting a sloppy stance and introducing new methods of combat. She was their new project; from the disregarded and neglected little girl she had been, they aspired to transform her into the perfect warrior. Her dreams revolved around a flying phoenix, and perhaps for the first time she knew hope.

She should have known it was not to last, for on the 428th day living in the Niibori estate she dreamed in quicksilver. Flashes of black and white and red showed the images of a gruesome scene; a girl not much older than her upon a hard stone surface, she appeared asleep but for the brilliant streaks of blood smeared on her face and collecting in a pool around her. The face was towards her, a peaceful expression forever frozen in time despite the pain she must have felt. Next, there was an image of a finely dressed figure, kimono neat and hair accessories holding up an elaborate style.

Even from the back she would recognize Yuuka-san.

The nightmare continued with the next flash, almost to quick to take apart from the others: a well manicured hand holding a bloodied knife to dark and thin lips; a delicate jaw line and a long pale neck; the embroidered neckline of an expensive kimono spattered with flecks of blood. Then, Matsusuke-san laughing an arm thrown out wide as if to invite someone closer; only to be draped over a rumpled futon as dead as the girl.

It was almost to much and the next morning she would not speak to Yuuka-san, no mater the threat. As soon as she was left with her guards she begged them to investigate, to search the estate for the girl and get her to safety.

In the end, she had been the cause of that girls death. She considered herself the true murderer even though it was Yuuka-san's hand that held the knife. She blamed herself for the attention she inavertedly drew to the girl as it shed light on a situation that existed for years as nothing but shadows. The girl's name was Shimane Haruko, and she had been Matsusuke-san's latest acquisition.

"Kaoru-dono?"

She blinked, having missed the transition from forest to town, and looked around main street where venders were happily pedaling their wears. Hastily she turned back to Kenshin, her embarrassment quickly turned to an apologetic smile seeing the worry on his face. There was a type of strength, a glint almost like steel, in his eyes and she knew she would need a quick diversion.

Short of that some fast talking might work.

"Yes, Kenshin? It's so beautiful out today, do you think we should take the road home by the lake? I know its longer but I would like very much to see the momiji trees reflecting in the water's surface. They always have the best color this time of year… hm, perhaps I should think of planting some in the yard. What do you think?" Everything she had was put into body language and the inflections of her speech, hoping to appear as nothing but happy and energetic.

She would never truly know if she was able to defuse what could have quickly become a tense situation for a diversion sauntered by. A whiff of curling smoke and the tang in the air the only warning she got as to the type of diversion.

Sometimes, despite her best efforts, the situation would always go from bad to worse.

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Also- I want to send out a thanks to _Jasmine_ _blossom625_; wouldn't you know it, even in word document those spelling errors were nicely underlined with a red squiggly line. Don't I feel sheepish. Baaa. A nice chocolate-chip cookie for you! ;p 


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